I sink down to the floor; razor blades in hand. Tears stain my cheeks and I'm screaming. I close my eyes and whisper the words I've been screaming on the inside for that last three years. I put on of the razors to my arm and pull. The red, sticky blood comes to the surface. I let out a deep breathe I didn't know I had been holding in. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I make another cut and then another. The sensation, the rush it gives me is non-comparable. I don't think anything can make me feel the same way a blade to my flesh feels. It's a senstation that I will always find a way to get.
